Parallel
by aUNCTarheel
Summary: What could have been running through Ziva's mind when we saw those tears in Dagger? Ziva reflects on her history after the death of Michelle Lee. DAGGER POST-EP, ZIVACENTRIC, TIVA-ESQUE.


**Disclaimer: **You know they're not mine, I know they're not mine. Let's move on.

**Summary**: What could have been running through Ziva's mind when we saw those tears in Dagger? Ziva reflects on her history after the death of Michelle Lee. DAGGER POST-EP, ZIVACENTRIC, TIVA-ESQUE.

_A/N: I will update my other story soon! A couple things happened that were pretty major and have kept me from writing, but this sort of popped into my head and thus we have the random posting of a one-shot story =)._

* * *

Ziva watched young, innocent Amanda look at the shiny badge being placed in her hand. Just moments ago she had told the girl that her Aunt would be there shortly to pick her up. She wished she hadn't had to do that; what the Israeli wanted more than anything was to tell the child that Michelle Lee would soon come to get her.

She reflected on those words she had spoken to Amanda. They were the same ones that an eighteen year old Ziva had once heard. Surely, as promised, Aunt Nettie had come to pick her up and no one asked any questions when she was taken off her mission. The older woman took her home in silence, and long before she walked into the room where her father stood waiting for her, Ziva knew that something very bad had happened.

Watching Amanda caused flashbacks that were overwhelming, and Ziva realized how intense that dormant pain still was. All of a sudden she was with Amanda, listening to Gibbs say that her older sister would never be there again. She was there, listening to her father say that her younger sister was gone.

Ziva remembered how that was the day Mossad became more than just an Israeli sense of duty. That day it became more personal than she ever could have imagined. She no longer just wanted to please her father, she wanted to be able to stop another girl from having to be told that she would never again see her sister.

She coninued to watch Amanda. _Looks like I failed_.

She watched as Amanda stood mezmorized not by the object in her hand, but by what it represented. Gibbs had said that Michelle would want Amanda to have it, and Ziva almost laughed remorsefully at those words. Her father said something along those lines also, only his version had been slightly more manipulative. He had told Ziva that Talleigh would want her to have not a shiny keepsake, but the satisfaction of working to bring down her murderers, and battle Hamas. Back then, she believed those words almost too much.

It was her father's way of comforting her, she understood it was the only way he knew how. It wasn't that he was cruel or heartless, for Ziva knew that beneath his stony exterior he really did care even if love was something he never could express. He had hurt too that day. She knew that he couldn't help who life had made him become. Still, she thought, he would never be Gibbs. He _could_ never be Gibbs.

These thoughts ran through her head in a matter of seconds, and she relived many long years in the span of a few short instants. She had no idea why, and really didn't want to understand it. The tough Mossad warrior felt defeated, yet oddly peaceful at the same time when she remembered that this was all behind her. That NCIS was her future.

Still, not a day went by when she didn't think of Talleigh.

* * *

When the pain had become too much for her to bear, she retreated to the restroom.

She wondered if Tony would follow her. She wondered if he cared enough, but he didn't come. He never did. It was probably better that way though, she thought. She didn't want him to know she sometimes cried, or that she felt pain.

In the bullpen, people walked around as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing had happened and a strong woman had not just died wrongfully. They didn't know, and they couldn't grieve. They weren't supposed to. The national security threat was more important than the mourning of one person, and this was how it should have been.

Meanwhile Tony sat as his desk, watching his partner's retreating form escape his view.

He wondered if he should follow her. He wondered whether she would want him to, but he didn't go. He never did. It was probably better that way, he thought. He wasn't supposed to know that she sometimes cried, or that she was capable of feeling pain.

In the bullpen, people carried on their day as if nothing was wrong. As if Michelle Lee was still there with them.


End file.
